


Like a Wound Behind Flesh

by somedayisours



Series: OC-Insert [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: -Ish, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Behavior, Drug Abuse, Explicit Language, Forced Prostitution, Gen, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Murder, One Shot, Pre-Canon, Self-Insert, Suicide, oc-insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-12 23:14:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20572520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somedayisours/pseuds/somedayisours
Summary: For a long time, District 12 only had one living Victor. For nearly three months they had two.





	Like a Wound Behind Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> Title from **The Anthropology of Water** by Anne Carson.

"What did you do?"

For some reason Ackley finds himself surprised by Haymitch's scrutiny of him, even with the knowledge of what the older man could—would—achieve when sober. But he isn't sober now.

"Nothing. Self-improvement, maybe."

_You? Self-improvement?_ Haymitch's face seems to say, a pretty bold claim coming from someone who probably spent most of the last decade blackout drunk. But Ackley can't really fault him for that.

"I wanted to make a record of it," he admits after a beat. "Twelve doesn't bend over for Snow. Twelve doesn't bend over for anyone, for that matter."

Haymitch is pale at that, "Do you know—"

"Oh, I know," Ackley cuts over, "I knew exactly what I was doing when I did it. I said goodbye to them before I left, anyways."

Haymitch looks at him with something like he's impressed but disgusted at the same time. Ackley can't say how he feels about that.

"Have fun."

"Oh, I will," Ackley counters with a smile. He's about to celebrate the death of everyone he's ever loved tonight. _That's what you get for telling Snow that, no, you aren't going to get on your knees and suck some fucker's dick for him. No thank you, old man, you can pimp someone else out for all I care._

He doesn't bother counting out the chips, if they're any good like the greasy prick at the party promised, he'll be too dead to care. If he lives there's always the option to slit his wrists in the bathtub.

**Author's Note:**

> The 'chips' Ackley got are meant to be window panes (acid for those that don’t know the term, it is bordering on out-of-date). In my original notes Ackley does OD from the acid, it's left kinda ambiguous here.


End file.
